~ Tales by Lornadahl

16.01.04

This year’s first online achievement: Made a friendster match.First offline achievement for 2004: Incurring an AWOL due to an unapproved application for vacation leave. Favourite firework Sunday evening: The one that looked like swimming semen. Favourite Enchanted Kingdom ride: The severely orgasmic Roller Skater. Growing indulgence: Screaming my stress away while splurging. Forgotten category for my last entry’s Special Awards: Text Message of the Year. Another hard-to-get-rid possession: My 21-year-old sanity. This month’s vaginal event: The surprisingly punctual arrival of Marilyn. Impact: As destructive as my old non-anemic days. Blank pages left in The Notebook not authored by Nicholas Sparks but by my friends and myself: 60. Discovery Channel moment of the week: A calf running towards his apathetic parent, dashing away from 3 angry dogs. Favourite ‘exchange gift’ so far: My dad handing me my digital camera after gushing about his new Nike shirt. No. of illiterate drivers who completely ignored the signs Strictly No Overtaking in Shoulders and Shoulders for Emergency Use Only: 4. All right, all right. It’s 5.

Dear Niwee,

I’m still in the mood for more.

Give me 10 goals for 2004.

Get a third job.

Go out of the country with Mommy.

Meet more equally-snobbish friends/ters.

Save up for my Masteral degree.

Widen my vocabulary and/or become a better writer.

Be a sportswoman.

Take pride in my new “take-homes”.

Go match-making. Right, Gumpaste?

Acquire serenity of the mind and heart.

Lose pounds, gain new wardrobe.

Give me 10 moronic acts to avoid this year:

Marry a hacker.

Give my bosses a reason to lay me off.

Miss a book diss/cussion.

Fail to give my share in the joint bank account.

Embrace stagnancy.

Miss free film festivals and workshops.

Use the same scent.

Reveal secrets to the wrong person/s.

Buy an organizer/calendar a month later, like what I did last year.

Discontinue my beloved blog.

Give me 10 desired entries in The Notebook.

Hubs’s comic strips, a very long-time request. Paging Hubs.

Since Gumpaste has contributed a recipe already, I want to see a handwritten “Twenty-Three”.

Crazybitch’s soulful “Solitude”. If it’s not too much to ask, with HamboG and Gumpaste’s deleted posts.

A sketch from Phoebe.

Samples of Leeney_V’s designs. Yes, plural.

The poster of Mommy’s CMMA-nominated personal documentary, “Cheese Curls” and a couple more of her black and white photos.

Li’s recipe of Pan de Pizza, the product we advertised for our Advertising class.

Kakai’s storyboard of her award-winning school advertisement.

A book review of “1984” from my childhood friend-turned-pen pal-turned textmate Dheiz.

Aside from an original musical composition of Hans? His black and white nude photo wouldn’t hurt.

What are you gonna do when you witness your best friend’s beau wrap his arm around his other woman? Would you text your friend immediately and encourage her to get even like what Barbie did? Or would you shrug it off and declare it’s none of your business? If that happened to me, I’d put three holes through the philandering jerk’s skull right then and there and make his bitchy company as the arrest-worthy being.

Today, my mom who happens to be the undiscovered Bella Flores of the Philippine Cinema (if my comparison is inaccurate, please forgive my lack of exposure to her era) made another scene.

How she loves to defy her health limitations! But I’m happy for her. She’s getting laid, as of writing.

Hmmm… Wonder if marine prostitutes charge in pesos or in dollars.

I hate myself for being passionate. For being too passionate. I must have been a niggard for passion, I consumed large amounts of passion to the extent I never left a drop for my brothers. How I hate myself! I hope this uncertainty my brother is experiencing is just a phase.

If my trip to Batangas today is to be converted to a film, I would be very ashamed to submit it for public viewing. Highways and barrios alike have non-existent lights. Fishermen were garbed in Mossimo and armed with hair gel instead of fisherman’s hat (which I am so obsessed with nowadays.) While cement factory stands high and proud, there were literally rocky roads to conquer. Makes the ‘trailer’ (P)GMA Cares! a mocking prelude to this audio-visual nuisance. Continuity might not be a major factor for critics to consider the effectiveness of a film but in this case it dramatically implied it’s a pito-pito obra.